Pretend
by TeaForRevenge
Summary: Renge knows that it's all make believe. Really, she does. RengeKyouya


Disclaimer: Ouran is not mine.

Summary: Renge knows that it's all make-believe. Really, she does. (Renge/Kyouya) (Only not.) (Implied one-sided Haruhi/Kyouya)

Author's note: Excuse: I had a taste for something disturbing.

**Pretend**

Once upon a time Renge had a secret.

Only it is not really a secret.

All the maids know and are laughing at her.

Renge is seventeen, her hair long and light-brown, her smiles wide and her head full of happily ever after.

For these reasons, she doesn't mind.

Instead she turns to her secret.

There, amid her cupboards filled with Manga, DVDs and video games, is a shelf full of fairy tale books.

"It's okay," she tells herself.

It wasn't as if she believed in them anyway.

So, the first time Kyouya comes up to her, after all the other hosts had already left, grabs and kisses her, quite forcefully actually, Renge doesn't mind.

In her head, she turns the pages of a book and knows it's only because of the fiery, fateful love he holds for her.

When they break apart, Renge is breathing heavily.

"Your mouth is so big," she whispers and then, "Kiss me again."

So, he does.

And he makes kissing her look easy.

For that she loves him.

Then, there is skin and touch and cold floor and hurt and pleasure.

When it's over, Kyouya pushes himself away from her. (He had taken care of protection. She certainly hadn't had the mind for that.)

He smirks with his big mouth and his clothes look neat and completely untouched.

Renge is smiling widely, her school uniform in complete disarray, and the red ribbons she put into her hair that morning are hanging loose.

He turns to her, by now having stood up again, and she sees a shining armour and a white horse.

"It would improve her looks," he informs her, "if you were to cut your hair short."

Renge hears the beginnings of a great tale and nods and smiles widely once more.

Kyouya doesn't see. He is already gone.

Renge goes home as well and finds her fairy godmother in a pair of scissors.

The second time he comes to her, she loses a shoe and wants him to return it.

There are leaves under her back and her clothes are strewn everywhere and his fingers drag through her short hair and he presses a kiss on top of her head.

Renge silently thanks her godmother.

Kyouya tugs at a strain of her hair and examines it thoughtfully.

"A darker brown would suit your eyes much better," he murmurs finally into her hair and she listens to a promise of a rescue and a castle.

Then he stands up, smoothes his hair down, looks as pristine as if he had come straight from the pages of a story tale book and goes away.

Renge collects her scattered clothes and starts dressing, but just can't find her red hair-clips (It's now too short for ribbons.) or her left shoe.

She never got them back.

Instead, Renge goes home; rubs the strange lamp-shaped container, makes a wish, pours the contents of the container of her hair and dyes it.

The third time, she remembers that three times, three times, three times is a charm.

Her hair is short and dark and Renge is dressed for a ball.

When her prince comes up to her, she watches him watch short dark hair that is not her own.

Next, there is a dark corner, abandoned and reserved for evil stepmothers, hasty touches and the ripping of a dressing gown and a wish.

Later on, she looks at large hands now shying away from her as if she were a poisoned apple,

remembers dark, short hair not her own and asks: "Do you like me at all, even a little?"

Kyouya pauses in the straightening of his tie, just minutely, before he resumes.

He doesn't answer.

"Your mouth is so big," she whispers and then, "Leave."

So, he does.

And he makes leaving her look easy.

For that she hates him.

Then she goes home and knows that once upon a time she had a secret.

Only it is not really a secret.

Kyouya knows and in her head he is laughing at her.

Renge is seventeen, her hair short and dark, her face knowing and her head full of cursed spindles and a pair of heated iron-shoes.

For these reasons, she doesn't care anymore.

Instead, she turns with a knowing face to a maid, presses a package into her hands and tells her to throw it away.

"But why?" the maid exclaims, shocked, looking at the fairy tale books in the package, and not laughing anymore.

"It's okay," Renge tells her. "It wasn't as if I believed in them anyway."


End file.
